I missed last months opportunity to get this bloody show on the road because, well, I'm not even sure I'm ready for any sort of intervention yet? Because I'm dreading the fertile nurse telling us that's that my time is up, go home and stop longing? Because day 21 of my last cycle was just too inconvenient?
Whatever it was I decided last night that it had to be done. And my GP's surgery couldn't (wouldn't? They can be rather awkward) fit me in so I had to drag Ray to the hospital phlebotomy department.
Interesting word, phlebotomy. Makes me think of phlegm and lobotomy... We've spent a lot of time in that rambling huge old and new hospital over the last year. Maternity, so many times through my pregnancy for bleeding or spotting, Gynaecology for the scary bloody mess I was in a week after losing George, Surgery (zzzzzz), the morgue (to collect George from the kindest lady who had a biodegradable box made for him because I didn't want a coffin). Audiology for Ray, (he's not going deaf. Woop. He has Meniere's disorder. Boo.) and now Phlebotomy. There are miles of corridors linking departments and in a tribute to hospital directions, I have to say we've never been lost.
Because we are tight fisted and refused to pay to park, and because we chickened out of parking in the bank/pub/supermarket car parks due to the large signs threatening to clamp/tow/fine our poor little car to death we found free parking outside the hospital.
The phlebotomy department ladies called me in and proceeded to involve me in their complaint about christmas coming earlier and earlier every year. Did I know it was only 15 weeks till christmas? Did I know that M&.S have all their christmas cards and decorations on display already? Have you ever not noticed someone sticking a huge needle into your arm? Damn that phlegmy lobotomist was good.